


Some People Do

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Series: Leo + Luis (After Neymar) [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Brazil National Team, FC Barcelona, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hair, La Liga, M/M, Massage, teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: Philippe and Luis join them leisurely, without Leo, as expected.What's unexpected is the way Luis then reaches out to touch Paulinho's hair.It's very unexpected.Paulinho thinks at first that maybe there's a piece of grass in his hair. Or a leaf. Or, who the hell knows, a loose thread from his warmup jacket that's somehow ended up in his hair. That could have happened, even though it’s a clean jacket straight from the laundry.But no.It's not any of that, and it grows increasingly obvious as Luis gently moves his fingers through Paulinho's hair.





	Some People Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgold/gifts), [yulin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/gifts), [LeoDios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoDios/gifts).



> Gifted to those of you who supported this ridiculous idea.
> 
> I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is part of this Leo/Luis series. I know the series has strayed to different POV, but it's still dealing with the same thing--the departure of Neymar and Leo/Luis' relationship as a result.
> 
> Also: See the note afterward for the short video of inside the tunnel which inspired this fic.

Leo’s walking gingerly when he returns from the therapist after getting his foot taped. His shorts are held loosely in the hand down by his side like he just couldn’t be bothered to put them back on afterward. But now, shivering slightly and just in his underwear, he makes a beeline for his locker so that he can put on his jersey.

Paulinho doesn’t really pay much attention.

Sure, he enjoys the view, flicking his eyes up to appreciate Leo’s thin build, but then he’s back to pulling on his socks, mind on the upcoming game. And Leo’s state of undress isn’t really out of the ordinary, since they’re still in the locker rooms and half of them are naked anyways. However, he does look back up when he hears Luis asking if Leo’s okay, the concern laced in his voice being obvious to anyone caring to listen.

And Paulinho knows that Leo’s been in pain recently.

They all know that, know how many minutes Leo’s been playing and how he’s now suffering as a result. Leo doesn’t always come out and say when he’s hurt, but there are little tells that Paulinho is learning means something isn’t quite right—a shift in his stance, a rubbing of his brow, a twist of his lips. They’re mixed in with his normal mannerisms and it’s often hard to know for sure, but Paulinho is starting to figure them out.

To prove his point, Leo doesn’t answer Luis straight out, sitting on the bench as he lifts first one leg and then the other to put on his shorts. But he’s still moving carefully, and Paulinho would bet that if he were standing it would be even more obvious something is wrong. And then—there it is—a slight wince once he’s dressed. “Hmmm,” Leo says, as Luis hovers over him.

The rest of the team starts to file out for warm up, but Luis doesn’t move from Leo’s side. “Let me help you stretch it out,” Luis suggests kindly but firmly, and Paulinho realizes it’s not about Leo’s ankle this time but his hamstring. “Come on,” Luis continues as if Leo’s agreed, dragging one of the foam mats over to next to the bench, “lay back and relax.”

Paulinho catches Leo’s eye, smiling in commiseration and tilting his head toward the mat. They both know that Luis is a mother hen as far as Leo is concerned and isn’t going to give up. Luis is even rolling up a spare t-shirt from his locker to use as a pillow for Leo’s head. But this time, Paulinho thinks that Leo deserves to be coddled.

Leo shrugs, slowly moving down to get his back onto the mat. Head on Luis’ makeshift pillow, he then bends his knees and puts his feet flat, toes digging into the foam. “Just feels tight,” he murmurs, fingers trailing down from his knee like he’s not sure where to touch. They push his shorts out of the way, bunching the blue fabric up until they’re tucked into the edge of his briefs.

Paulinho realizes he’s staring.

Staring at that long stretch of bare leg.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, and the fact that he’s unable to look away is unsettling. But he finds that his gaze is glued to Leo’s pale white skin, especially when Luis’ tanned hands begin to rub it gently. The contrast is strangely beautiful, and Paulinho has a fleeting thought that his own hands would also look beautiful as they moved across Leo’s body.

He shouldn’t be thinking that.

Leo’s eyes drift closed, one arm raised lazily above his head while his other falls to his side. He looks comfortable, like he’s getting a massage after a long workout, and his breathing evens out as if he’s going to doze off. But he smiles when Luis tells him not to fall asleep. “As if I could,” Leo says quietly, reproachingly, “with the game in a few minutes,” lips then parting in surprise as Luis touches somewhere that must be tender. “Careful,” Leo warns after a moment, not squirming away but obviously in discomfort.

Luis eases up the pressure, yet his hands keep rubbing the spot. “Relax,” he says quietly, fingers moving in small circles. After a few seconds, he changes tactics, palms spreading out across Leo’s thigh and then cupping the underside. The angle is difficult from where he’s squatting between Leo’s spread legs, and he inches forward until he can’t move any closer. “How’s this?”

Leo makes a sound of encouragement, raising his leg up into the air and resting his ankle on Luis’ shoulder. The tape scrapes against Luis’ jersey. “Ohhh,” he gasps suddenly as Luis’ fingers rub at the curve of his ass. “Right there,” he breathes.

Luis leans down to whisper something that Paulinho can’t catch, but whatever it is coaxes a soft moan out of Leo.

Paulinho abruptly realizes that he’s getting hot watching them. He shouldn’t be, shouldn’t be watching, shouldn’t be ogling for fuck’s sake. It’s just stretching and they’re his teammates, of course. But Leo’s so fit… and Luis is too, and the way Leo’s making sounds and spreading his legs like that.

It looks like, they look like they’re…

Shit.

Paulinho isn’t made of stone.

Leo’s heel is pushing back against Luis’ shoulder now, even as Luis leans against him and keeps his leg elevated. Over and over, Luis leans forward slightly, rocking slowly, helping Leo stretch, almost settling into a rhythm as Leo gasps and moans. And Luis’ hands keep moving, keep rubbing, teasing at the curve of Leo’s ass, caressing Leo’s inner thigh before massaging up and down from the kneecap to the hipbone.

Finally— _finally!_ —Leo raises a hand to still Luis’, taking a deep breath and dragging his toes down Luis’ chest. “I’m good,” he murmurs, opening his eyes and smiling at Luis. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Luis answers, gently moving Leo’s leg down to the side. He’s still sitting between Leo’s spread thighs and leans in to gently give Leo a kiss. “Don’t push it today, hmm?” he says afterward, brushing some hair off of Leo’s forehead. It’s just a few strands, but Luis combs it softly, his fingertips stroking Leo’s forehead. “We can afford to drop points.”

The way he touches Leo’s hair is more revealing than the kiss, Paulinho thinks as he tries not to draw attention to himself. Because Luis touches Leo like he’s something fragile, something treasured.

Something loved.

“We’ll see,” Leo replies, his eyes dark with something Paulinho can’t read, letting Luis do what he likes before he starts to raise up on his elbows. There’s chatter from the doorway then, as Valverde starts to call for the starters, and Leo and Luis get to their feet. “That’s your cue,” Leo says, smiling like he’s entirely unbothered about starting on the bench.

They all know better though, and Luis pinches Leo’s thigh playfully before tugging his shorts properly back into place. “Be good, hmmm?” Luis says.

And then he looks directly at Paulinho. “You coming?”

Paulinho knows he’s flushed, and his mouth is a little too dry to reply. But he clears his throat and nods, socks and boots done up ages ago. There’s no real reason for him to have just been sitting there and it’s probably evident he’s just been watching. But they knew he was there, so if they had a problem with it, they should have said.

That thought gives him a little bit of confidence. It’s almost too easy to walk by Leo and Luis with his head held high. He’s fairly sure he doesn’t imagine the laughter that follows him.

He smiles ruefully and shakes off his sexual frustration. All he can do is hope his face isn’t too red as he heads to the tunnel. Mostly everyone has lined up already and Paulinho slowly joins them. They're all in a pretty good mood and after taking a few deep breaths, Paulinho remembers that he should be in one too. He's starting after all, something that doesn't always happen, and he knows that he needs to take full advantage of this opportunity to show what he's got.

In front of him, Geri is laughing about something or another, chattering about the formation and telling Ousmane not to worry and that he'll be incredible out there. Ivan is smiling next to them, giving Ousmane a nod of encouragement too. Paulinho mentally makes a note to say something right before they start, knowing that Ousmane is even more nervous than he is.

Philippe and Luis join them leisurely, without Leo, as expected.

What's unexpected is the way Luis then reaches out to touch Paulinho's hair.

It's very unexpected.

Paulinho thinks at first that maybe there's a piece of grass in his hair. Or a leaf. Or, who the hell knows, a loose thread from his warmup jacket that's somehow ended up in his hair. That could have happened, even though it’s a clean jacket straight from the laundry.

But no.

It's not any of that, and it grows increasingly obvious as Luis gently moves his fingers through Paulinho's hair. "You cut it," Luis remarks, neither complimentary nor disappointed as far as Paulinho can tell. It's just a statement, an observation, as Luis’ fingers sink into the short strands, petting the sides carefully.

And it's true. Paulinho’s just surprised Luis is only mentioning it now.

So he smiles, confused, touching it himself. "A little," he says. "For the friendlies for Brazil." Most of the players have a barber come to the training ground to neaten them up, and Paulinho nearly always takes advantage of that. “Was getting a little unruly and everyone likes to do something before the big televised games.”

"Eh?" Luis asks like he didn't quite hear, still touching Paulinho's hair.

Their fingers nearly meet.

And it’s so strange. It’s like the first time Luis has ever touched him, except it’s nothing like that and Paulinho is suddenly unnerved.

Paulinho becomes aware that Luis is waiting for an answer and he tries not to stutter. "For the friendlies," he repeats, taking another deep breath as Luis leans slides a hand to the back of his head and cradles his neck. Luis' hand is comforting now, soft and warm, fingertips slightly grazing Paulinho's hairline at the base of his neck. "In Brazil," Paulinho says again, a small shudder running through him.

His mind flashes back to the way Luis had touched Leo's hair.

It wasn't quite like this...

Was it?

When Luis leans back, his hand stays on Paulinho's neck. “Stylish. It looks good," he says finally, like he's made up his mind. "Makes you look tough, formidable even."

Paulinho looks up at him and wants to laugh. "Did I not look tough before?" He smiles, looking over at Philippe and wanting him to say something to change the subject. "Need to be tougher for Brazil, maybe. We've got a bunch of pretty boys and then there's me sticking out like a sore thumb."

Philippe laughs, stretching his arms up to touch the top of the tunnel. "Doesn't matter how you look, man, as long as you keep scoring those goals. I promise you that!"

Paulinho thinks that’s the end of it then.

Except Luis doesn't laugh. He runs his hand through Paulinho's hair again, from forehead to the back, like he enjoys how it feels under his hand. "It looks good," he says once more, touching where the sides are shaved down a little closer. "Makes you look very strong. And it's very even, here and the other side, yes?"

Paulinho touches the same place, turning his head so Luis can see the other side too. "Yep, I like it symmetrical," he admits, shrugging, still off balance at how much attention Luis is paying to him. But he hugs Luis a little in thanks, ducking his head to hide his red cheeks.

“You don’t mind me touching it?” Luis asks once Paulinho straightens up. He sounds somewhat surprised as if he’s been expecting Paulinho to tell him to fuck off or something. His face is slightly shadowed from the angle, so Paulinho can’t see his expression.

Paulinho tilts his head. “Of course not,” he replies, trying to figure out why it would be such a big deal. He’s a little embarrassed, he guesses, but he’s not annoyed or anything.

Luis leans back and hums. “Some people do,” he says. His cleats tap on the steps as he shifts his weight, hands hidden now in his sleeves.

Paulinho is still confused because he doesn’t know what that means. Obviously, Leo doesn’t mind. Paulinho can fully picture the way Leo had smiled adoringly up at Luis back in the locker room. So Luis isn’t talking about Leo at all… He’s talking about someone else.

**Author's Note:**

> [Luis touching Paulinho's hair](https://twitter.com/twitter/statuses/980835605696323584)


End file.
